Damnation
by Angelic Sovereign
Summary: The Fallen. Angels who were cast from paradise into darkness. Claire Bennington never believed the stories they told in church...until her life became entwined with those self-same legends. Will she be pulled into darkness as well?


**Angelic Sovereign: Hey guys! I know, it has been FOREVER since I've done anything on here, I've been super-crazy busy with school. I took up ninjutsu, I'm an actual, God-honest ninja now. How cool is that? Anyway, this story could very well replace Pure, so keep that in mind. Read, review and enjoy!**

Thunk!

That was the sound of my head hitting the back of the pew while Father Gordon's sermon droned on and on and on. I started with a little of a snort from my nap, while the few adults up in the balcony glared at me briefly before returning their eyes to the diminutive form of our preacher.

What was this sermon even about? I squinted at the projector screen behind our good father, where in big, bold lettering, the word "redemption" was plastered across the screen. I sighed, and glanced at one of the stained-glass windows nearby.

The storm outside had gotten worse. It was not even noon, but the sky was black with clouds, and lightning flashed across the sky every minute or so, the claps of thunder temporarily drowning out Father Gordon. Rain pattered against the window. I died a little inside. Of course I parked in the back row today.

Yawning, I turned around in my pew, just to see who was here. A couple of adults sat near the staircase, looking like they were ready to make a quick escape from the place where "those darn kids" lurked. Three or four others, about junior-high age, sat in a group, the girls giggling as the single boy flirted with them ineptly. That was it, except for me.

I heard a soft sigh to my back, and I turned around the other way, towards the left, and the opposite staircase...and there sat a boy I had never seen before.

Ok, that in and of itself wasn't extraordinary. I had lived in Brighton all of four months. I didn't know everyone, but my parents had been forcing me to go to this dinky little church every Sunday, Wednesday and Saturday night since we'd moved here, and I knew everyone my own age that went here. Except, apparently, this boy.

He was tanned, like, really tanned. Like the kind of tan you see in people from Greece or Italy, just naturally golden-bronze skin. He wore a simple black t-shirt and denim jeans, which were just tight enough to hint at the muscle underneath. His hands were on the Bible he held in his lap, like he was going to open it, gripping it so hard that the his arms were flexed. Black hair hid his eyes and face from view as he stared down at the Good Book in his lap. He looked up, past me, towards the pastor, dark eyes swimming, his gaunt cheeks wet with tears. My heart gave a little nudge. Sure, I didn't know the kid, but he was obviously upset. I couldn't just let it go.

He was only two pews behind me and one row over, so I gave a little wave and a whispered "Hey."

His head whipped over to me, almost like a bird, and he stared. Not the "why-are-talking-to-me?" kind of stare. The "I-know-more-about-you-than-you" kind of stare. The kind where you almost feel violated, because this person is peering straight inside to your soul, and you feel naked before them. He didn't speak, but gave a slight, almost unnoticeable nod before looking back at Father Gordon. I turned back to the front, thoroughly freaked out. I had never seen this kid before in my life, but the way he stared at me...it was like he had known me forever.

I sat there for a few moments, wondering what I should do. I wanted to get up, march over there and ask him what his problem was, but some small voice in the back of my head screamed and cried at me so much that I was almost shaking with fear.

_Run_

I made to stand, but as I did, a loud crash of thunder reverberated through the church and the lights flickered and died. Everyone groaned, and Father Gordon calmed everyone, telling them to stay in their seats until they could get the power back on or find candles. I was close enough to the stairs I figured I could make it, and get downstairs to where my folks sat, but as I stood, two strong hands gripped my shoulders and gently, but forcibly pushed me back into my seat.

The hairs on my neck stood up as someone's warm breath ghosted across my skin. I knew without looking that it was that strange boy.

"Whatever happens Claire....don't run." His voice was low, and he had a peculiar accent I didn't recognize.

I started to turn around, to slap him, to yell and scream about what made him think he had the right to act like this towards me. I never did, for two reasons. One, it slammed into me....how did he know my name?

Two. The world, as I knew it, ended.

There was a crash, and I thought it was lightning, but it was far too close. I watched as with a flash of light that illuminated the whole room, the stained-glass window behind Father Gordon shattered. The rain of colored razors mixed with the howling wind and rain as _something_ came through.

There were two of them. One was seemingly made of formless shadow, and I could barely make it out in the darkness as it pounced on Father Gordon where he lay on the ground, and promptly bit off his head, gore spraying from the stump onto the tabernacle.

The room erupted into chaos as people screamed and cried and trampled one another trying to make it to the doors, as the second something entered.

It was bright, blindingly bright, and that light filled the room like the sun. It looked like a man, a man made of white fire, garbed in gold. It held a platinum staff in its hands, the tip the largest and most beautiful diamond I had ever seen. It glittered in the light given off by the being's six fiery wings, beating effortlessly to keep it aloft.

"Damn them. Damn them to the Abyss and back! Do you hear me, Seraphim? I curse you to the same torments I have endured!"

I looked beside me and gasped as I backed away, horrified and fascinated and dumbstruck.

That strange boy wasn't a boy anymore. He towered over me, looking to be at least six foot five, maybe even more than that. His broad chest was bare, and loose, black cloth pants hung from his hips. Muscle rippled beneath his skin as he tensed and flexed in agitation. His features had changed subtly, where the boy had looked plain, the man before me looked every inch a predator. Hard, cruel lines dominated his face, his lips pulled back in a snarl, revealing the slight points of fangs. His hair was tossed by a wind he himself seemed to generate, uncovering long and pointed ears. I thought he held swords in his hands, but I realized with a start that not only did his hands have gigantic claws, but the foot-long spikes off his elbows were spurs of bone, curved slightly inward towards his body, the points wickedly sharp. I took in all this in the split second before I noticed the greatest change.

Wings. They sprouted from in-between his shoulder blades, just below the middle of them, further down his back. They were spread, and the size of them took what little breath I had left away. Each one was longer than I was tall, and very wide, and completely feathered in black. They glimmered in the shining light of the Seraphim, like razors.

The Seraphim spoke, its voice like a thousand choirs singing in perfect harmony. ""Fallen one, do not interfere in the affairs of Heaven. It would be foolish."

The dark angel spat, his hissing voice filled with hatred. "Foolish? It was foolish of me to believe you would honor your bargain!" He gestured at me. "I kept my promise, Burning One. I've stayed away, I've kept my distance from her, and you gave your word to keep her safe, your word Seraphim. Is this how you keep it?" He pointed at the snarling shadow-beast as it tore into the congregation. "You're letting them run amok! You broke your vow, Seraphim...I will deliver the punishment."

He strode towards the balcony, his expression resolute, never wavering. Except when he looked at me, huddled against the wall, terrified and confused. The cruel lines of his face almost disappeared as he gave me a small smile, full of warmth and tenderness, his dark eyes inviting, and for a moment, I was calm. It didn't matter that I was alone in the darkness as the storm howled around me like the beast that rampaged below. This dark angel, this "Fallen one"...he was here to keep me safe.

Just like that, the smile vanished, and he once again looked the role of a predator as he jumped from the balcony, wings unfurled, powerful and graceful and triumphant.

The room lurched and shifted. The church fell away, and I was floating in blackness, and high above me, a bright light shone down, faint, far away. The angel's expression changed immediately. He floundered in the air, his wings bent and broken, the feathers limp and hanging as he feel down, further and further away from the light, the air rushing around him drowning out his scream as his faced screwed up in horror and anguish. He saw me, floating above him as he plummeted, and he outstretched a hand. His voice echoed in my skull as he vanished into the black.

_I can't face the dark alone, Claire! Will you save me?!_

The black rushed up around me, drowning out the light above, and I screamed as I died.

XXX

"Claire! Claire, wake up, it's ok!", someone shouted as they shook my shoulders.

I stopped screaming and wrenched my eyes open to see my friend and the person I was living with Cassandra standing over me, her baby-blue eyes filled with concern. I immediately burst into tears and hugged her tightly, and she patted me back and murmured to me, reassuring me with her presence. After I calmed down, I pulled away and sat up in the bed, sniffling as she handed me a tissue.

"Thanks," I whispered as I took it and wiped my nose, "you're a lifesaver Cass."

Cassandra was known for her extremely dry wit, and she raised an eyebrow at me with an almost comically-exaggerated expression of concerned curiosity. "I was beginning to wonder. What on earth were you dreaming about sweetie?"

I opened my mouth to tell her, but the dream eluded me, like wisps of smoke on the wind. I could recall glimpses of it, but nothing concrete. The only thing that stuck in my mind was an image of a man, winged, falling into darkness.

"I...", I choked out, "I don't really know..."

Cass, still the picture of motherly concern, gave me a hug and whispered. "Well whatever it was, it's over now. Will you be able to sleep ok?"

Thinking about my nightmare made me shudder, but I was too exhausted to stay awake like this for long. My eyelids were already beginning to droop. "I'll be fine Cass, I'm so exhausted I'll probably go right back to sleep for the rest of the night." I looked at the clock beside my bed, which read three-forty-four, and I sighed. The rest of the night wasn't going to be long enough.

Cassandra nodded, and gave me another quick hug. "You're going to need it hun, you've got class in a few hours. I'll set my alarm for six just in case you don't wake up."

Not for the first time, I was overwhelmed by the kindness my friend had shown in letting me live with her, and in taking care of me in the wake of everything that had happened. I spoke past the lump in my throat. "Thanks sister dearest," I murmured. She gave me one last pat on the back before getting up and leaving, closing the door behind her.

I closed me eyes and pulled the blankets around me tight, in a vain effort to keep my fears away. My nightmare ate at me, but it was my own thoughts that plagued me more. It had seemed so real...I couldn't remember what had happened, only that it had to have been real. As I drifted off into sleep, the angel's words drifted through my head one last time.

_I can't face the dark alone, Claire...will you save me?_

**Angelic Sovereign: Well, not much to say. You know the drill!**


End file.
